Wheatley and the Ports
by visitingfan
Summary: Wheatley gets a new android body, and with it he discovers the pleasures of ports.
1. Wheatley and the Ports

It started out when he was floating above the moon. Which was how he would tell it no matter how many times that bloody space core would yell at him about orbiting and blah blah blah blah. It's FLOATING. And he spotted an odd pink cube on the surface. And that was how he met a man named Doug. Sort would always skip most of this part because of "reasons. Science reasons. Way too complicated for a silly little human to understand."

* * *

So that's how it started. And it continued with the core asking, very politely mind, for an android body to help him get around the place. After all, this Rat person survived _Her_ for years, surely something like that would be within his capabilities. And it was. And he made the core an android body.

And that was how it continued. The story reached its zenith when Wheatley had to get an upgrade. And then the lab rat had to link him up to a system, and that involved ports and plugs and Wheatley had never before felt or even heard of anything remotely as amazing as that experience.

* * *

And that was how it got to this, with him twiddling an audio jack between his long, slender fingers, before pressing it against the port located in his lower back, pretty damn close to his tail bone. The first time he did this he had tried arching off the chair for ages but that was a pain, and so now he was just sitting half off the edge with his legs spread. And it slid in and suddenly pleasure was quite literally jolting up his spine and slamming into his head, and his entire brain almost short circuited for a moment. And then he yanked it out and groped with shaking fingers for a computer jack, and he slid that one in a lot more slowly and then he had an entire CPU hooked up to him and he arched up off the chair with a loud groan and ruined his trousers.

When he woke up his legs were spread wide and the plug had fallen out, unplugged by his own hand falling limp. His head was laying limp, resting against the back of his chair. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

_"Man alive."_


	2. Wheatley Finds a Favorite

Wheatley would never admit it, but in reality he had started to develop a bit of a problem. After all, it wasn't exactly _easy_ to get the android new clothes, and Doug would always silently quirk a brow whenever he would show up with torn trousers or a mud-caked shirt. Because, Wheatley being Wheatley, he was quite accident prone. It was when he started showing up with sticky trousers and large wet spots that it started to get suspicious.

But that wasn't the problem. No, that was easily explained away (or at least Wheatley thought it was), but it was far more difficult to explain the constant stealing of computer devices with a jack-in plug. It had started with a simple pair of headphones, yes, but it wasn't long after that that all sorts of things started to go missing from the lab rat's personal stash.

When Doug suddenly lost his one and only charger, he had had enough. Whatever Wheatley was doing with them, they could be replaced. Except for his charger. That was the only thing that kept his radios and his communicators and all his various gadgets going. Of course, he had no way to know that this was exactly what Wheatley was using it for. Just for an entirely different way.

Wheatley had discovered that as amazing as it was to have another device linked into his nervous system, having an outright electrical current flowing into him from that most sensitive and marvelous port was like going from masturbation to full blown, drug-fueled intercourse. The first time he tried it, he had just wanted to borrow the thing, to try it out. He did that with most of the things he took, really. He always planned to return them, he just usually completely forgot to and quickly lost them forever.

So it was quite a pleasurable surprise for him, when he started his usual routine on his favorite chair. Plug the cord in to whatever he was going to be hooking up to, then lower his trousers down to his shins and sit down on the chair, legs spread and halfway off the edge. He twiddled with the jack in his slender, admittedly pale fingers like he always did, reaching down to press the jack against his one and only port. Not where you might think, actually, but just on the end of what on a human would be his tail bone. He liked to tease it, for some reason; it didn't do a damn thing for him, but the suspense was something he enjoyed. He slid it halfway in, so that the connection was spotty and barely there. He always did that first. But this time, that barely-there connection was absolutely mind-blowing. He was gasping and shuddering and he hadn't even plugged the damn thing in properly.

So that was what he did, and his shirt was stained and his trousers ruined and for the next three hours he was floating on an electric sea of numbness and pleasure. By the time he finally came back to his senses enough to yank the plug out his artificial muscles were sore and burning and his unmentionables were still twitching and there was drops of fluid everywhere. Needless to say, after Wheatley cleaned up he kept that new, special plug close by at all times.

He would never let this thing go, not if his life itself depended on it.


	3. Wheatley is Discovered

He was far too dependent on this charger plug. That was a cold, hard, fact, and it had absolutely no chance of penetrating the thick haze surrounding Wheatley's mind and actually sinking in. It was almost agonizing, the sensations barreling up his spine. The port itself had become exposed to so much electricity that it tingled and pulsed at the slightest hint of a magnetic field.

The android had first discovered this when he was helping Doug, his old friend who had put him into this body in the first place, set up an electromagnet. Wheatley wasn't too sure about_ why_ the lab rat had been doing this, but if he had any sense in him he would have realized that Doug was having another rather strong episode of his psychosis. He had told Wheatley what it was called, once, but the bot never could pronounce it right. It had been when the scientist turned the contraption on that Wheatley felt it; an electric, pulsing throb at the base of his spine, thrumming in his tailbone and echoing up his spine. It had made his limbs ache, made every vein (or rather, wire) pulse and tingle with the closest he able to get to arousal. But not quite that.

Wheatley had immediately began to squirm where he had stood, long lanky limbs crossing and uncrossing as he tried to hide his slowly building erection. He didn't know why he was even capable of having those in the first place, but if he had ever asked Doug he would have been informed that Aperture had been working on cloning a body with synthetic materials. It being Aperture, it worked but also failed, and instead of a bio-synthetic organism they wound up with androids with every human function replicated artificially. A failure for Aperture, but it was exactly what Doug had needed. He just redid the exterior.

And so it was that Wheatley had begun making the most obscene whining noises known to mind, and the lab rat had given up completely within minutes and had booted the bot out of his work area. Wheatley continued squirming for several moments before dashing to his secret spot. By the time he got there he had the cord pulled out of his trousers haphazardly, and he was fumbling with it as he tried to plug it in. That spot on the base of his tail bone was still throbbing, and that odd tingling sensation had a name, now. It was an old name, but damn if it didn't fit perfectly.

He Itched. He Itched and this Itch was similar but also very, very different. But it still lit his robotic body on fire, made every fiber pulse and Itch and throb. And then the cord was plugged in, and he was tugging at his clothes, getting the fabric caught on his lanky limbs. He almost fell over in his haste, but he managed to catch his balance on the chair, fingers trembling along with his arm as he supported his weight, tugging his trousers off of his legs entirely. And then they were off, and he grabbed the jack and he didn't have time for preamble, not now. He plugged it in and he choked back a scream, back arching off the chair, feet scrabbling on the cement floor as his robotic, but admittedly organic looking cock twitched and throbbed.

He still hadn't quite figured out that his hands would be helpful here, mostly because the main source of pleasure wasn't even located there. It was his port, that plug slotting in perfectly, every inch in contact with the electrified metal, not a single nanometer of empty space. And it was driving him wild, and he bucked up and up and up again as he tried to hold back. He couldn't, of course, not with electricity slamming into his most sensitive of areas and travelling up his spine, flooding his mind with pleasure and bliss and making his toes curl against the floor. His fingers were gripping at the edge of the chair, knuckles white from the amount of pressure. And it was moments like this that Aperture's poorly wasted genius was evident. Looking at him you wouldn't be able to tell he wasn't human if it weren't for the cord.

His cock was as hard as his body was programmed to allow it to be, and if he was able to feel it it would probably be painful. But he was in a closed circuit, and as much electricity that was flowing into him and filling his wires and nerves and brain and skin with crackling pleasure, he couldn't release. It made him so achingly hard, and the ingenuity of his body's design even had drops of precum oozing at the slit. But he couldn't care less about that, no sir. He couldn't care about anything, and he would be here for hours on end floating in electrical oblivion.

Or at least, he would have. If it weren't for one, tiny thing; Doug had been growing increasingly suspicious as of late. Even in his episodes of insanity, the walls would whisper to him that his friend, his project, was having problems. His murals were full of colors of blue and silver, dripping and swirling and branching like lightning. He was worried for his friend, and the electromagnet was supposed to work as a scanner to tell him what was wrong with Wheatley's body. But even he, locked away for so long and forgetting so much of what was considered normal life, could never misinterpret those whines, those particular desperate squirms. So he had followed Wheatley, as best as he could, and after getting lost for about thirty minutes he was finally able to find Wheatley's secret spot. The loud, echoing sounds certainly helped.

The sight that he saw there was part pathetic and part endearing. Doug felt a great deal of pity for Wheatley, who quite obviously was not at all prepared for this kind of stimuli. He saw the way Wheatley's eyes were scrunched up tight, saw how every artificial tendon was taut and standing out against his synthetic skin. He pretty quickly figured out why Wheatley was so obviously stuck in this state. After all, he _was_ a scientist involved in robotics. So he walked forward, calloused fingers wrapping around the cord. He pulled, and the jack popped out of Wheatley's port, and the bot screamed louder than he ever had before as the circuit was broken and he released all over his belly, synthetic semen pooling on his flat abdomen. His eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, and he quickly passed out from the strain of it all.


	4. Wheatley is Assisted

Doug looked down at the android laying unconscious on the plastic chair. He looked almost pathetically debauched like this, and if the old scientist didn't know any better he would think that Wheatley was some kind of nymphomaniac. But he knew that was not the case; the bot just didn't know the meaning of moderation, nor did he understand how to properly vent these kinds of urges. So, it was with a heavy sigh and a slumping of his shoulders that Doug got to work.

First he pulled the rag he used to wipe off mistakes in his murals out of his lab coat's pocket. He cleaned it with a small bottle of rubbing alcohol he kept handy for such occasions and bent down over Wheatley's torso, wiping the spilt seed from the android's belly. Now, Doug wasn't exactly one to do this, but he had always been rather fascinated with artificial life forms, so he. Gave the stuff a quick taste. Which immediately resulted in a grimace and a silent retch. It tasted like salty oil mixed with burnt rubber. Hardly appetizing.

He tossed the rag onto a nearby table and moved away from Wheatley for a moment to unplug the charger and return it to one of his pockets. He really did need that thing, after all. then he walked back and looked Wheatley over once again. The scientist tutted softly with his tongue, shaking his head from side to side in distaste. Not because he disapproved of Wheatley's actions, but because the android should have known to come to Doug about these urges. If he had only done that in the first place, a lot of this probably could have been avoided.

He bent down and picked the android's trousers off of the floor and folded them up. He would have to leave these here while he got Wheatley back to his latest den. Which was going to be rather difficult considering how tall and lanky the bot was. He tried lifting him up by the shoulders to get him in a sitting position, but the second he went to lift his hindquarters Wheatley just flopped back onto the chair. It was a computer chair, which meant that it could be tilted back into a sort of recliner. It helped that the restraining bolt was half broken. After about ten minutes of extremely awkward attempts, Doug finally had the bot slumped against him. Doug had the bot's arms draped over his shoulders, with Wheatley facing him so that their chests would have been touching if the android wasn't almost impossibly tall. As it was, Doug had to abandon any remaining sense of modesty and use the android's ass to hold him up.

It was in this incredibly awkward manner that the scientist dragged Wheatley all the way back to his den, whereupon he promptly plopped the bot down on his own personal cot. He wiped his brow, and left Wheatley alone to go back and get the bot's trousers. when he returned, Wheatley was still fast asleep. He didn't really know what he was going to do until Wheatley woke back up, but he eventually decided to give the unconscious android a physical inspection. It was about time he did so, anyways.

So, Doug propped Wheatley up just long enough to get his shirt off and then let him fall back down. His slightly calloused, paint-stained fingers rubbed and prodded at just about every spot of Wheatley's skin. First and foremost, he had to check for any tears in the skin, or any sub-dermal damage. Thankfully there wasn't any. At least, not on his chest. The quality of the artificial skin, though. That was something else entirely. Wheatley felt like he was an actual, living organism, despite the fact that he was not. His skin was smooth, and warm, and practically indistinguishable from human skin. Next, Doug moved up, to check on Wheatley's head. He opened the bot's eyes, still a little blown away but how remarkably alive they looked. But, if you paid close enough attention, you could see that the irises were just shutters with patterns carved into them and stained. Still, very hard to tell.

From there, Doug moved back down, checking and pushing and prodding at Wheatley's abdomen to check for any tears in the artificial muscles underneath. Any damage done to Wheatley's body would have to be manually repaired. Thankfully, once again, it seemed that no damage had been caused. From there, he rubbed and pushed at every inch of Wheatley's thighs, and shins, and calves. No damage there, either, though the bottoms of his feet were pretty dirty and rather scuffed up.

He was purposefully avoiding the one area that, in all likelihood, needed to be inspected the most. And that was Wheatley's groin. Doug wasn't exactly a modest sort of person; being trapped in a gigantic underground facility for decades would do that to you. But, still, it was kind of awkward to have to lift up the android's sac and check for tears. It was also incredibly awkward to lift the bot's prick and move it around to check that it, too, was free of any damage or tears. Things got about fifty two thousand times more strained when Wheatley chose that exact moment to wake up. The bot blinked lazily and looked down at Doug, whose face was one stricken with mortification. And then Wheatley smiled one of his trademark adorable, dorky smiles, completely innocent and unassuming. and Doug's embarrassment went away, and he went back to his inspections.

when he came upon Wheatley's port, however, he was legitimately surprised at the amount of scratches and nicks in the metal, as well as quite a few small tears in the tissue surrounding it. "Wheatley, what have you been_ doing_ to this thing? It's scuffed halfway to hell!" Wheatley took on a sheepish expression and replied, "I don't know, mate, just. Plugging things in. Seems to work out just fine." Doug's expression turned incredulous. "Plugging- Wheatley, you can't just shove any old thing in there! It's a delicate part of your body, you have." He sighed heavily and said, "You have to know what you're doing, which you obviously don't. From now on, _I'll_ do this for you, do you understand?" Doug's expression clearly said that there was to be no discussion on the subject, and Wheatley frowned apologetically and nodded. "Alright, then." And then he perked up and grinned in that endearing way of his. "So when do we start?"

Doug just groaned. It was abundantly clear that Wheatley had next to no restraint or patience, and judging by the way the tall, lanky android was wiggling where he lay and trying and hilariously failing to entice the scientist, he was also more likely than not going to turn out to be some sort of perpetually-failing flirting machine. But, he supposed that just this once, he could give Wheatley what he wanted. After all, it was just this once, and one little handjob combined with a carefully regulated use of the charger couldn't hurt, now could it?

And thus, Doug pushed himself to his feet by using his knees as leverage, and he shambled over to the well-worn electrical outlet. He pulled the charger cord out of his lab coat pocket and plugged it in, walking back over to where Wheatley was eagerly wiggling on the cot. Doug rolled his eyes and bent down, grabbing a shabby pillow to slide under the bot's lower back to prop up his tailbone. He wrapped one hand around the bot's prick, and while Wheatley let out a keening little moan he slid the jack into the android's port. Electricity sparked to life along Wheatley's spine, and he arched his back as the pleasure assaulted him, flooding his entire system. Unfortunately, Doug had no intention of letting Wheatley abuse it this time. So he tugged the jack out of the bot's port in just a few minutes, and started slowly stroking the bot's artificial, but convincing, cock.

It certainly felt real to the haggard scientist, but he more than anybody knew not to let appearances be deceiving. He also wasn't exactly experienced at this sort of thing. for one, before the neurotoxin incident he had been a happily heterosexual man. But when you've been locked underground with an omnicidal AI running the very world you were trapped in, such petty things as sexual orientation ceased to be of any priority. But even so, he hadn't held a cock in his hand in a very long time. Not even his own, actually. So he had to rely on Wheatley's facial expressions to figure out if he was doing it right.

Thankfully for him, Wheatley had been pushed quite close to the edge by the short stint with the charger. It was only about a dozen or two strokes on his cock later that Wheatley was throwing his head back and bucking his hips, thrusting his prick into the embrace of Doug's hand before he released in spurts across his own belly. The bot smiled sheepishly up at Doug, who immediately wiped his hand on his lab coat. "Alright, go ahead and get dressed. I need your help cleaning up one of the older dens. I left some supplies behind by mistake."


	5. Wheatley has an Experience

It had been several days since Doug had first caught Wheatley using his charger for nefarious and deviant purposes. Several days since he had, for some unknown and probably insane reason, agreed to mentor Wheatley on sexual activities.

For the first two days, the bot had been completely insufferable. Always tagging behind him, prodding him and asking to be stimulated in the dirtiest of ways. Doug had only put up with it for two days because he was busy, always always busy. The walls whispered to him of Her activities, the tiles condescending and the support struts pitying. He hated it, hated how the eyeless walls watched him in his memories and poisoned his thoughts.

So for two days, Doug ignored Wheatley's begging pleas to have that heavenly charger jack plugged into his port. Two days in which Doug worked and painted and babbled to himself, shouting the insanities of the fallen and the forgotten and the ascended. And at the end of the second day, he fell into fitful sleep on a cot curled against the chattering android.

Doug awoke on the third day to an insistent object prodding him in the back. It took him a moment to realize what it was and who was pressed against him, and when he realized Wheatley's prick was pressed against his lab coat he let out a world weary sigh. Doug pushed himself upright into a sitting position on the cot, and then pulled his legs up before swinging them around onto the floor. He stood slowly, popping his back with a groan of discomfort. He was getting on in years; his body wasn't what it used to be. Wheatley was still asleep, bless his rambling little heart.

The beleaguered scientist heaved out another heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. He reached down and slapped Wheatley gently in the face, who sputtered awake while saying "Wha-I'm awake, I was awake I was just resting my eyes. Wha-. Wha' is it, then?" He said while looking at the scruffy scientist. Doug just pulled the charger from his lab coat pocket, and Wheatley scrambled out of the cot and fell onto the floor in a gangly ball of limbs.

"We haven't got all day, Wheatley. I'll meet you in the office den. Try to hurry." Doug had no time to baby the android and escort him to the meeting place, and so he turned on his heels and walked out of the makeshift little hovel of a room. It wasn't too far away, the room he had in mind for this to take place. It took Doug less than five minutes to walk there, which was impressive considering the sheer size of the facility. He had no doubt that it would take Wheatley considerably longer to find the place as he was so often confused and lost.

The room was pretty sparsely furnished all things considered; a chair, the exact one Wheatley had been using before Doug put a stop to the unsupervised excursions; a cot, just in case it was needed; another chair for Doug to sit in; some random pieces of old technology; and a somewhat large, waist high portable generator. It was covered in outlets, which Doug had every intention to use with Wheatley. He took off his lab coat and draped it over the straight-backed chair that was his own, and set up the charger jack. He plugged it into the generator, which he was using for a very good reason: It had dials to control the amperes and voltage. He _was_ a scientist after all; might as well do some tests.

As Doug had predicted, Wheatley had gotten lost very soon after he had gather himself together and gotten off the floor. He had left the room in search of the scientist and took a wrong turn, and then another, and then just ambled aimlessly for several minutes. Wheatley finally found the room he was after only twenty minutes after his initial departure. "'Ello, Doug!" He said amicably. He ambled into the room and was already working his trousers off, fumbling with the button and nibbling on his lips in concentration. Doug had only just gotten up to help him when he undid the button with an exclamation of victory and shucked them off. His long gangly legs kicked the trousers off clumsily, eventually getting them off and tossing them across the room. He was flaccid, penis hanging between his legs rather adorably when he saw his old chair and clapped his hands happily.

Doug just sighed once again when Wheatley plopped down on the chair and slid down, spreading his legs wide. "Well, go on, luv," he said with a bobbing eyebrow and a pointed glance to his general groin area. "Patience is a virtue, my friend" Doug said somewhat exasperatedly. Wheatley pouted and started bobbing his hips up and down impatiently, letting out the occasional whine as Doug double checked the settings on the generator. The artist made shushing sounds as he crouched down and took the jack between his fingers, lining the metal nub up with Wheatley's port and sliding it smoothly in. The android hardened almost instantaneously, hydraulic fluids filling his dick and engorging it with liquid, making it hard and rigid. He bucked his hips up rather sharply, jerking the plug out of Doug's fingers and surprising him rather badly. He simply frowned, however, and wrapped his fingers around Wheatley's synthetic dick. Once again, it was an odd feeling to experience for him, but this time he had a better idea of what he was doing. Doug rubbed the calloused pad of his thumb against Wheatley's frenulum, rubbing and smoothing it over the slit of the glans and smearing the sparse droplets of precum that had gathered there.

Wheatley was far from silent during all this, of course. Muttered litanies of praise slid from his lips, eyes closed tight as he bucked his hips into Doug's hand and sobbed in sexual pleasure and frustration. He was so hard, the pleasure not stemming from Doug's hand per-se, but from the jittering sparks of electricity filling his port and flowing up his spine and branching throughout his entire body. Every inch of him was sparking with pleasure, electricity thrumming through his circuits and exploding behind his eyes like sexual fireworks. Doug dialed back the amps, and Wheatley stopped bucking his hips instinctively and started to rhythmically thrust his hips, essentially fucking Doug's hand.

Doug was honestly surprised at the reactions he was getting, and made a mental note of it in hopes it would be remembered. When he reached back and dialed the amps _up_, Wheatley yelled out in pleasure as his cock throbbed and started leaking precum in copious amounts. It was getting all over Doug's fingers, but he didn't care. He was too interested in what Wheatley was doing to pay any mind to it. It was when he dialed up the voltage, however, that Doug was given the greatest surprise of all; his eyes had wandered down to Wheatley's asshole, which was for all intents and purposes purely aesthetic. In fact, Doug had been under the impression that it wasn't really a hole at all but just an indentation meant to look like one. But he was proven wrong when the electrical currents flowing through Wheatley's body had it open and then close, over and over in an almost hypnotic manner.

This was not only surprising because it proved a hypothesis wrong, but also because Doug's mind was leaping at the opportunity to get some well-deserved release of his own. But first, before he tried anything at all, he had to test what that hole was capable of. So he pressed a finger inside when it opened, and gasped when it closed around his index finger with suprising tightness. Doug wormed it in deeper, wiggling around in an attempt to judge its depth. Surely it wasn't as deep as a human's, after all? But when Wheatley was gasping and squirming around two fingers buried as deep as they could possibly go and he couldn't feel an end, Doug had to come to the conclusion that it really was quite deep.

Doug left Wheatley to the influence of the jack and stood up, reaching into his pockets for a packet of lubricant. In reality it was one of Aperture's many failed inventions, an attempt to create reusable fuel for cars. But all it ended up doing was working as the perfect lubricant for any situation, which was miraculous in and of itself. Doug tore it open with his teeth after he reached down to undo the button on his trousers and push the zipper down. He pulled out his dick and upended the packet onto his prick, slicking up the entire shaft with his right hand. Then he stepped close to Wheatley's still squirming form, holding down the android's hips with his left hand as he aligned his dick with the other's hole with his right. The artist shifted his footing and pressed forwards, hissing at the tightness that clamped down periodically on his length. He timed his little forward thrusts, only going forwards when Wheatley's body opened up and holding still when it clamped shut again. The lubricant made it an easy task to slide in balls deep immediately, but Doug was worried about tearing the android's synthetic tissue. When his balls were pressed somewhat wetly against Wheatley's spasming body, Doug reached under his own dick and yanked the cord. Wheatley fell still at last, chest heaving.

"Wha... why'd you stop?" Doug simply made a shushing sound, and he pulled out about halfway before sliding back in. Wheatley let out a shocked noise of arousal as the blunt head of Doug's cock pressed against an amazing spot inside of him, and again when the scruffy old artist wrapped his worker's hand around the android's length and began to pump in time with his thrusts. The chair creaked and rocked as Doug fucked the gangly man, and he let out a gravelly groan when he released inside of Wheatley's ass. Warm ropes of come spurted deep into his synthetic body, and the artist languidly jerked Wheatley off until he, too, came upon his own stomach. Their breathing echoed throughout the room, the only sound there other than the quiet dripping of Doug's semen leaking out of Wheatley's hole.

_"...Man alive...!"_


End file.
